Maybe you don’t consider yourselves as misogynists. But you are. If you would watch a woman breaking in front of you, set aside the fact that you know what you are doing to her, and still take what you want under the thin excuse that you explained yourselves, if you disregard her time, diagnose her problems and presume to know the solutions, if you run hard and fast from your fuck-ups and tell yourselves and others that your happiness is the ultimate priority, if you won’t look at her in a crowd but enter her in the dark, if you live accidentally, if you are one-dimensional and childish, if your excuse is heartache and fear, then you are misogynists and your punishment is your own metallic and bitter taste, your own desperation. For those of you who are calculated and Machiavellian about it, the accumulated pain and hatred that you cultivated will destroy you, give you cramps and make you fat and tired; it will give you illness and bad luck; flies are burrowing in your soul and your life force is dwindling; you will fail. I’m not worried about what will happen to you.
I am worried about the women. My friends, my family, I wish I could scoop out the shit you have been served. Don’t believe it, fight it, expand like a flood light. And like light and sound, there is no place your heart can’t reach. I see what generous creatures you are. Even in your most derelict-form you choose to destroy yourself instead of another, and even though I know it’s all you can muster, it’s a beautiful act. Now fight. Don't negotiate, wait, figure, or resign; fight.